I went to a funeral this past weekend. I took Little Man. It was in Chicago.
I have various thoughts on the trip:

1.) The MidWest: Sometimes I find oppressing the nasal vowels and overcompensating friendliness of the MidWest. Not this time. I was all about O'Hare gate agents asking for my boarding payaaaaaaasssssss. When you travel with a wee one, the heaping helping of neighborliness is welcome.

2.) Twizzlers Pull n' Peel: It is possible, in case you were hazarding a guess, to inhale nearly a whole bag of these whilst contending with grief and elder Koreans telling you to change your shoes because you look tired. The?

3.) Bigheaded Assurance: In case there was any doubt in my own mind, as in, Ohhhhahaha, maybe I'm just exaggerating because I look at him everyday, my son does indeed have an enormous head with an immense forehead, rendering him a genius, of which, at last count, every other elder Korean at the funeral did not hesitate to inform me.

4.) Burden: I have attended two funerals in the last two years for men who have passed away in their fifties, who have left behind loving wives and loving sons in their twenties. Men nearing middle age, please please see your doctor regularly. And please heed your doctor's counsel.

5.) Absentia: Just over 24 hours away from Baby Girl was enough of an interlude for her to cloak herself in a whole new lovely layer of sweetness. When she awoke at 3 a.m. this morning, it was apparently due to the fact that, "Let me just give you a hug. Night."

6.) Last solo flight: I think this was the fourth roundtrip flight I have made as one parent traveling with 1-2 children. I think I overheard my lap say, "Annnd, scene! That's a wrap!" this last trip. I hope I don't have to fly sans Loverpants anytime soon. Or again. Ever.